Bildungsroman
by TheGirlTwoDoorsDown
Summary: Lily folded the unfinished letter into a paper airplane and threw it across the room, falling into the recipient's cradle. There were so many words and things to say, but she didn't know how to form them into sentences let alone a meaningful explanation. She might as well retry tomorrow. Today, after all, was Halloween and Lily wanted to spend it with her family. OOtP Severitus
1. A Humid Day In Little Whinging

Disclaimer: It's on the site for a reason

Chapter 1: A Humid Day in Little Whinging

Lily folded up the unfinished letter into a paper airplane and threw it across the room, falling into the Harry's -the recipient's- cradle. There were so many words and things to say, but she didn't know how to form them into sentences let alone a meaningful explanation. She might as well retry tomorrow. Today, after all, was Halloween and Lily wanted to spend it with her family.

13 years, 9 months and 1 day later:

Harry sat legs spread on a park bench reading that day's copy of The Daily Prophet. His messy black hair shaded his green eyes while still managing to stick up in every direction as he flipped through the pages reading each article about his maniacal tendencies and proclivity for lying. He didn't know whether to laugh or be mad as both felt like perfectly reasonable reactions. It really was comedic to him: Rita slandered him at every opportunity and he was up to date on every word she printed. Otherwise, nothing in the newspaper reported any knowledge or even tidbit of information about Voldemort. Fudge must still be denying the inevitable.

The golden curls in the sky had turned to a blanket of navy blue half an hour before. Harry narrowly avoided getting beat up by Dudley and his little posse while he was strolling a bit ago. Harry just picked up his legs and let them lead eventually coming upon an ill-attended garden that was supposed to be a nice park, but had been torched by the heatwave. The grass died and pavement felt like it was going to melt the bottom of his shoes. He was alone.

Earlier that summer, the Dursleys made an executive decision that Harry should maintain the garden, cook four meals a day, clean the bathroom, wash the dishes, polish the furniture, wax the floor, vacuum and be grateful while doing everything. It was only fair seeing as how the boy was such a burden on the poor Dursleys. He came into their house and rudely took up space, even commandeering Dudley's second bedroom. Well, if the boy wanted to stay, he needed to earn his keep. It was the correct course of actions considering the troublesome circumstances. As one would presume, Harry was not as content with his lot as the Dursley's were. As he toiled away weeding the dead lawn, Petunia would sit on the couch and primly watch the television. He would glare at her through the window, breathe in through his nostrils, and continue doing housework muttering jinxes he wished he could cast.

After Harry finished his daily chores, He slipped out of privet drive and bore the heat in order to not get a second list of chores he had to do in order to get dinner. If he wasn't quick enough, his aunt would catch him at the door and hand him a slip of paper filled with more housework -a terrible tragedy that was- and he couldn't have even have a moment of peace and quiet before his aunt would screech and snap at him to get a move on. That day, Petunia was watching the TV in the air conditioned living room and barely noticed Harry as he tiptoed out the front door with the newspaper in the back pocket of his jeans. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry closed the door and anticipated several hours to himself away from his horrible family.

Harry was now perfectly content in the crispy park he found himself in. He could loosen a button of Dudley's old plaid shirt and recharge from the unsurprisingly exhausting task of existing in the same area with the Dursleys. He had some peace and quiet so long as no one dared to brave beyond their air conditioned houses in the easy bake oven that was Little Whinging and Harry was fairly certain that nobody would.

Harry put down The Prophet and took a thoroughly unsatisfying breath of humid air. Merlin, Harry felt off. There was something out of sorts within him. Harry had finished reading the Prophet and there wasn't much else to do this late at night, but it felt far too early to return to the Dursley's house. Well, time to reread some articles. When he looked closer at the image heading the article about the new store that opened in Diagon Alley, there was a blur in one of the shop windows. Harry put his glasses at the end of his nose and held the newspaper up to his face to get a closer look at said blur. There wasn't much he was able to discern so he pushed his glasses up and set the paper down on his lap. He looked around and felt miniscule icicles stabbing him on the back of his neck repeatedly. His breath shimmered white in the air. Harry mechanically turned his head around to see the horror behind him. It was a dementor.

Harry slowly stood up and slowly breathed in and out to calm his heart rate and emotions down. It wasn't working as well as Harry hoped; His left arm was rattling in fear and his brain felt tingly. The dementor directly behind him made no moves towards or away from Harry. He turned around and looked at the scene behind him: two dementors staying still with their garments waving despite the lack of a breeze. There they were hovering above the ground with their wispy hems almost grazing the brown grass. Their boney hand lay to their sides. The one right in front of Harry looked up and lifted the angle of his head allowing Harry to steal a glance beneath its hood. Where there should have been eye sockets was nothing; just black. It's circular mouth was right below it wide open. The two bore their eyes or lack thereof at one another. Not a breath was heard while the staring match continued. Earth stood still.

The second one creeped closer to meet the first one where it hovered. Harry took a step back and the Dementors didn't budge. Everything was silent. What was going on? Harry had a hurricane that pelted his stomach with a barrage of fear so why weren't the dementors doing anything? He should be soulless by now. He should be a shell. Why were they unmoving.

The second dementor swiveled its head to the left and it body followed in that direction quickly following whatever it had found. The first dementor shadowed the second one out of the park and down the streets of Surrey. Harry watched them go. the temperature rose to intolerable levels and his breath was once again translucent. Thank god they were gone.

Harry gasped and widened his eyes. Dementors don't just disappear; they are attracted to human souls and there was inevitably an innocent soul wandering around the streets of Little Whinging this time of night. They locked onto one. Harry pulled his wand out of his pants and dashed off in pursuit of the two dementors.

The dementors had a head start so for a while, Harry was playing catch up as the pair sped off to their first victim of the night. Round boulevards and crosswalks the three of them went in order to reach the wandering muggles first.

From three blocks down the street, Harry saw a group of teenage boys huddled around one another. Found them. From far away they were a bunch of blurred shirts and fuzzy faces, but as Harry sped up to warn them. They turned into recognizable flaps of skin and douchey t-shirts. The blurred faces and bodies became, most unfortunately, Dudley and his gang.

Harry sprinted the last bit towards the group.

"Harry's back come for a beatin' now has he?" Dudley sneered with his pudgy, ugly lips while towering over Harry. Dudley looked back at Piers, flicking his head up as a signal. The gang started approaching Harry.

Harry had no time for their stupid antics and bullying.

"Leave! Leave right now! Scatter in any direction! Run away or they'll get you" Harry threatened waving his arms in sweeping motions

"Is the big bad wolf coming or somethin'?" One of the unimportant members from the back yelled.

A chill came upon the area. Harry pulled his wand at the ready. His knees were bent and his shoulders in knots.

"Harry pulled out a stick! What's he gonna do wi' that? Tap whatever's 'coming'?" Piers asked guffawing at scrawny little Harry looking so serious prowling around the area holding a stick like it was a revolver. Dudley wasn't laughing.

The two dementors drifted around a coffee stain of a house to approach the gang. Harry stared at them in horror.

"He must be mad. Sayin' some'ins coming then staring off. Your family have just put him in the mad house you should have done. There's no help left for him," Piers cackled while Harry tried to break up the group.

One of the dementors glided in the middle, turned his face to Dudley and raised his boney hand to Dudley's shoulder. Frost glistened on Dudley's shirt.

Harry lifted his wand at the dementor and thusly at Dudley. Dudley flinched and his friends laughed at him. The dementor lifted Dudley up by his jaw and into the air. His friends weren't laughing now. The gang froze jaws hanging open looking at their poor friend drifting in the air several feet off the ground. The dementor lifted its head and held it next to Dudley's.

"Run!" Harry yelled.

They scattered in different directions. The second dementor followed Piers into the streets.

Harry glared at the offending dementor, took a deep breath and let his hate and fear wash away into love and happy memories. He thought of dinners in the main hall where he, Hermione, and Ron would laugh over something inane while two thirds of the group procrastinated on homework. He thought of riding on a broom and the feeling of mastery he got. He cast the patronus charm. Dudley schlumped to the ground and coughed embracing the unpleasant warmth. The dementor backed off wary from the charm.

Dudley was fine for now, but Piers definitely was not. Potter dashed off in the direction that Piers fled praying that the Dementor next to Dudley would be wary enough to ignore him for the time being. Harry zipped past streets and boulevards following the trail of ice the dementor left. The frost led him to an adjacent neighborhood. Piers was held up on the front of a house next to the outdoor sconces. Piers' face was deathly white. The dementor leaned into the poor boy's face ready to kiss him. Harry stood far away with his wand arm outstretched. He remembered happy thoughts of friendship and merrymaking to let out his patronus from within. The Dementor rammed into Piers from the force of the charm blasting at the pair. It fell down and stayed there from the force of the impact. Harry grasped Piers hand and pulled him into the middle of the street away from the malevolence of the dementor. The world warmed itself up.

"Can you get home?" Harry asked looking into the worn out eyes of the other boy.

"Yeah," Piers replied exhausted.

"Run. This the Patronus won't last for too much longer while I'm not around,"

Piers nodded slowly and took off in a half hearted jog. Time to get back and save Dudley. The escapade with Piers took longer than Harry was counting on. Harry passed several landmarks he remembered from his mad pursuit of Piers' dementor. Finally he reached the intersection where the dementors first approached Dudley's gang. Dudley hung in the air supported by dark magic and the foul creature that caressed his face. Dudley and the dementor were interlocked at the lips. They clung onto one another; Dudley in fear of falling and the pain that would come if he backed away and the Dementor in pure euphoria. After several seconds, the dementor let go and out from Dudley came a tiny blue iridescent dot. It shone and lit up the gloomy night despite its owner being dead in the eye and spirit. The dementor opened its mouth and ate Dudley's soul. Sensing no more snacks, the dementor left full for the night.

Dudley cried an ugly wail that reverberated and made some houses turn their lights on from the garish noise. The pair stood there in silence and in shock while the moment seeped into their brains. Eventually Dudley stopped crying and sat motionless on the ground. He wouldn't move even if Harry prodded him and tried to pull him to his feet. The night warmed up, but Harry didn't enjoy his respite from the cold. He felt drained and there was a deep pounding in his temples. A stumbling man with bloodshot eyes approached them.

"Potter. There you are. I've been lookin' everywhere for ya," He said slurring his words.

"Go away." Harry replied morosely.

"Right. Forgot to introduce myself. I'm Mundgundus Fletch-"

"I don't care who you are; just go away,"

"But I'm-"

"Leave" Harry stated with a not of finality.

The man sulked away and Harry took a breath. He and Dudley couldn't simply sit here all through the night. Harry grasped Dudley's forearm and pulled him, however reluctantly, to standing. Harry let Dudley flop onto his back with Dudley's arms hanging over Harry's shoulders. Harry grasped the meaty thighs of Dudley and carried him piggyback style to his home.


	2. Number Four Privet Drive

Chapter 2: Number Four Privet Drive

Harry, while supporting the limp body of Dudley, attempted to grasped the door handle and fiddle with while trying not to let Dudley's cumbersome body fall off to his right. After much careful maneuvering, Harry pried the door with his right ring finger then when the crack was large enough, swung it open with his foot. It had to be open wide enough to fit Dudley through it after all and that was no simple task. Harry made it through the doorway only to be greeted with a terrified Petunia and Vernon guarding themselves against the noisy intruder with a whisk held out like it was a heavy sword and an extremely threatening unplugged hairdryer being masqueraded as purple plastic gun. Petunia's hair was in pink curlers and her body shook like the house was ten below freezing despite her wearing a bathrobe. Her shoulders hunched over as she held the whisk out front and her feet were far apart, planted in the ground. Vernon's face hued a shade of off-white that matched the wallpaper behind him. Once they saw Harry and realized it was simply their freak of a nephew, they relaxed. Vernon's face regained color and Petunia let her shoulders down and the whisk fall to her sides. Vernon glanced at Dudley lying limp and helpless on Harry's back. Vernon's face turned a shade of cherry red and Petunia pursed her lips.

Harry turned left into the drawing room -giving the Dursleys little time to comment- and placed Dudley on the putrid green couch. Dudley's arm flopped down grazing the carpet. He still had the glass eyed look and a small frown as though he couldn't see a thing in the world, and what he could sense didn't matter. For him, there was only nothing. His muscle tee hung off of his skin as if it were paper light. The doily that decorated the sofa fell onto Dudley's still shoulder. He was nothing more than a breathing sack of potatoes.

Petunia tentatively walked up to Dudley and shook his shoulder. Dudley lifted his head to look at his parents for several seconds and then set it down. His eyes held recognition, but the care and emotion was gone. It didn't matter that his parents were standing in front of him with wrinkled brows and worried eyes. Petunia stared at Harry waiting for an explanation, yet none came from his lips. After the long silence, Vernon decided to move first walking over to gauge the temperature of his son with the back of his hand. After realizing that his son was fine in that respect, he turned his head to look at his nephew.

Vernon barked at Harry "Grab the blanket boy!"

Harry obliged, walking over the armchair grabbing the knit blanket draped on the back. He handed it over to Vernon. Petunia scurried to the kitchen to get her son some tea to quell whatever freakish thing happened that night. Vernon opened the blanket up and draped it over his inanimate son. Petunia returned with a small cup of tea and a crumpet balanced on a saucer. She placed the saucer on the coffee table and attempted to hand Dudley the crumpet, outstretching her hand. Dudley didn't respond to her offer or even move so she put the food in his hands. Dudley didn't grab it and let it roll onto the floor. The husband and wife looked at each other realizing that having their son be a willing participant in his recuperation was not working. Vernon pulled Dudley's body up to a sitting position as Petunia lifted the cup of tea up to Dudley's lips and tipped it towards him. The tea dribbled out of his mouth and down the front of his shirt. Petunia shook her head and walked into the kitchen to microwave a washcloth and grab a spoon. She returned with the items. Vernon picked up the spoon, dipped it in the cup of tea and tried to spoon feed Dudley. Dudley wouldn't budge his lips. The tea pooled in his mouth. Petunia grabbed the warm washcloth and started dabbing Dudley's forehead.

Harry felt a stone weigh deep in his stomach and slosh around. His heart shrunk and he felt pain while looking at the Dursley's trying to revive their son from his permanent vegetative state. Dudley would be like this forever. The Dursleys would forever be dabbing his forehead with a washcloth waiting for the day their son could hold a conversation or at the very least acknowledge them.

"It won't make any difference; he won't respond," Harry said looking upon the still visage of Dudley lying rather pathetically on the couch while his parent unsuccessfully attempted to nurse him.

Vernon cranked his head to look at Harry who had been silent for quite a while and sputtered, "Boy! Explain! What did you do to him?"

"It wasn't me. I tried to stop it. It was a dementor a magical creature that can-" Harry responded quietly still thinking about Dudley's fate.

"I think it's a spell you cursed Dudley with. Don't lie to me boy." Vernon towered over Harry, "Petunia, I think this freak has given us enough grief and should finally get what he deserves: to be left on the streets where he should have been a long time ago."

"He's telling the truth Vernon," Petunia said quietly stopping from dabbing Dudley's forehead, "I overheard that boy telling Lily about them when we were young guarding some magical prison."

Harry looked at his aunt eyes wide with surprise. How did she know about dementors? Also, why would his dad tell his aunt about them?

Vernon stiffened his lip and crossed his arms "I don't believe him. We should get rid of him; wipe him off our hands once and for all."

"I don't know whether that's a good idea. Dumbledore said-"

"Petunia we should stop letting ourselves be controlled by these wizards. The longer we listen, the more we have to tolerate their unnaturalness. If we cut Harry out, we cut them all. We'll finally be normal."

"Vernon, I want that. I want that so much, but we have to tolerate him. If not," Petunia looked at Harry then turned her face to Vernon, "We won't be very normal."

"Petunia you're blinded by his freakishness. He hurt our Dudley and doesn't deserve to be our guest."

"I didn't do anything to hurt Dudley! I didn't cast a spell. Two dementors-" Harry shouted.

Suddenly, there was a loud pop accompanied by smoke and two sparks coming from the middle of the room. Onto the coffee table dropped a small letter with a bright red seal addressed to a Mr. H. Potter. Petunia snatched it up before Harry even had the chance. While scanning over the words, her eye widened and she glanced at Harry seething. Her veins popped out of her forehead and her mouth drew into a sneer.

"You disgusting little liar," Petunia said quietly handing the letter to Vernon, "You were right. He lied Vernon -the disgusting freak. You're worse than my little freak of a sister you are!"

Vernon's face flushed a shade of plum that was certainly a warning sign for a heart attack while reading the paper and glared at his nephew which he'd raised and helped care fore albeit neglectfully and abusively for the majority of the duration with an intense rage that he had never felt before. Here was this boy that he fed and clothed at the expense of his own flesh and blood coming back with a son that wouldn't even respond to his parents.

A quiet whoosh of wind was heard in the Dursley's parlor and the drunk man Harry ditched earlier, Mundungus Fletcher, appeared. Vernon wrinkled the letter by clutching it too tightly.

"I've been looking for ya' everywhere Harry." Mundungus slurred.

Harry inched away for the overwhelming stench of alcohol and cigarettes. Mundungus put his arm around Harry's shoulder and Harry wriggled out of the grip of the strange man.

Mundungus caught sight of Dudley laying still on the couch and said,"He got hit wi' the Dementor's Kiss didn't he. Damn shame that is. Worse than death I heard. If anyone halfway deserved it it's him though from what I've seen."

"Worse than death?" Vernon asked the man his eyes bugging out of his skull.

"Ya tha's what the dementor's kiss supposed to be: a fate worse than death. Sucks your soul right out and leaves you a shell. It's cruel that's what it is"

Vernon turned his purple face towards Harry and stomped towards him yelling, "Give me back my son! Reverse what you did to him!"

"I didn't do anything!" Harry replied

"We already know you're lying! Just tell us how we can get our son back! Undo whatever you did! I don't care if you have to revert to your unnatural ways. Just bring Dudley home!"

"I can't"

"What do you mean 'You can't'. You did this you fix it!"

"Dementor's kiss is irreversible. A soul can't be re-put into a body. Believe me people 'ave tried." Mundungus said making an unwelcome reappearance into the conversation.

Vernon stood up and snarled at Harry who tilted his head up to maintain eye contact. He crumpled the letter addressed to Harry and threw it at his feet. Harry picked the letter up and straightened it out.

"Get out," he said staring at the boy who tore his family apart.

"I'm sorry," Harry replied downcast.

"You can be sorry once you're gone. Get out my house, boy!" Vernon said pointing towards the door.

"You can't just kick me out," Harry responded looking up his uncle, a heavy feeling pooling in his stomach.

"Oh yes I can and I will," Vernon replied with fury and glee in his eyes.

Harry was about to open his mouth and respond when his aunt chimed in.

"Harry pack up your things and take your freakishness with you. I don't want you around to hurt Duddikins anymore," Petunia stated ending the erupting argument.

Harry looked at his aunt. She turned her back to him and tended her son. It's funny Harry thought that if he left the Dursleys he wouldn't feel a thing. Harry thought they meant nothing to him and he meant nothing to them in return. If Dudley hadn't been kissed, he wouldn't have felt so guilt ridden about leaving. In fact, he would have been joyous and ecstatic especially because he was now free to live with his godfather. Harry figured that after a while he'd grow content about what happened, but at the moment he was absolutely drained.

Harry walked up the stairs to his bedroom and packed his meager clothing into his trunk. There were screeches as Mundungus was pushed out of the door by Vernon to go wandering about on the front lawn. Harry walked down the stairs carrying his trunk. He set it down when he reached the floor. To his left, he heard Petunia sobbing in the living room. Guilt swelled in his chest so Harry opened the door to walk outside. Mundungus stood on the bit of grass between the street and the sidewalk.

Harry was going to a new life; one where he would live with his godfather and he'd be happy. He looked back at the house that had been the bane of his existence for fourteen years and started walking away to the curb so he could call the night bus. Finally, after fourteen years, Harry Potter left number four Privet drive for good.

A/N: A little shorter than the previous chapter, but there's less going on as well. Not sure if I characterized the Dursleys right. Well I hope you guys liked it!


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